


Coaching the Cleaner

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, Kinks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-24
Updated: 2009-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Warning(s): M/M Sexual Relations, Bondage Themes, Roleplay, Inappropriate Use of Inanimate Objects etc.Pairing: Coach!Dean/Janitor!SamSpoilers: Mild “After School Special” SpoilersSummary: A Slightly Moody Janitor, An Overbearing Coach in Tight Red Shorts and a Broom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

“What’s up?” Dean persisted, following Sam as he wheeled the cart of various cleaning materials down the hallway. The floors were polished, the walls were crisply coloured, the lockers shiny, with sharp corners. Ergo, way better than either of them remembered. 

 

“I’m telling you Dean, there’s nothing wrong!” But Dean was right in his concern. It was just all the memories that tied to this school, all the memories that tied to those memories and the memories tied to those memories and so on that were getting to him. 

 

“My, someone’s snappy!” Dean remarked playfully. Sam shot him a reproachful glare, and Dean smiled. “What!? You’re cute when you’re angry!” 

 

Dean knew Sam all too well, hence such a statement did more than melt all that raw feeling away, it drew Sam’s eyes, no longer filled with contempt, down to the stirringly tight red shorts. Sam snapped his head forward, leaning over the trolley avoiding the glare of that irresistibly red bulge. Sam jumped as Dean’s thick hand landed hard and fast on his ass. 

 

As he staggered forward, almost slipping off his feet, Sam choked, “Um, Dean- - this isn’t really the time or place.” 

 

“I make the rules here boy! I am the teacher after all!” Dean’s voice changed to an even more domineering than usual tone. It was a cheesy put-on tone, like a gruffer version of his flirtatious voice. 

 

“Dean, you’re only faking being a Gym instructor, you're not a real teacher.” Sam stopped the trolley in front of the janitor's storeroom. “You look like something out of the Simpsons.” 

 

A strong palm landed on Sam’s shoulder, thick fingers curled into him and spun him around. Dean gazed at him with an overbearing look of authority, “Young man, you watch how you speak to me!” He shoved Sam against the wall. “You have a lesson or two to learn, boy, and I intend to teach ‘em. Right now!” 

 

Sam kept his face as seemingly surprised as he could manage but in truth he was more turned on than he had been in a very long time. He liked where this was going. Furthermore all thoughts and memories of his time in these very halls wisped away. 

 

Dean’s hand briskly grasped Sam’s crotch, before he was pushing his mouth over Sam’s lips. As Dean’s plump lips enveloped Sam’s and his hands groped Sam shamelessly, Sam’s hand dragged across the wall till it clumsily found the door handle. When the door swung open they spun and stumbled into the storeroom. Dean pushed Sam off when the door slammed shut, that fake authoritative expression still painted his face. 

 

“It’s time we established the ground rules. First of all you’ll call me 'Coach'!” The elder brother barked. 

 

Sam fought a smirk, “Yes Coach.” His cock was pounding hungrily inside his briefs. Why, why did I pick briefs today! He thought as his erection became painfully full as well as constricted. 

 

“Lesson two, you always do what I say. Whatever I say.” Dean then barked, “That understood?” 

 

“Yes Coach!” 

 

“Turn around,” Dean demanded soon after pushing against Sam, pressing him against the bench at the end of the storeroom. Sam straightened up, sliding his tongue across Dean’s cheek as he turned. One hand gripped Sam’s stomach as the other slammed into his back to force him down. As his face smacked against the cold wooden table Dean then rumbled, “Lesson three. That fucking tight ass is mine!” 

 

“God yes, Coach!” 

 

Dean’s hands skilfully removed the belt as he growled, “Strip down, boy!” 

 

Sam unbuttoned his pants as Dean’s hand, still pushing him to the table, slid under his shirt and up his back. When Sam’s pants had fallen to his ankles, Dean whipped the belt down on Sam’s ass with a snap. Sam pressed his face into the table even more, biting on his lip as sharp bliss spread from the red mark forming on his ass. Dean took off Sam’s underpants, cock springing out and alleviating all that unbearable pressure. Dean admired the bruise as he replaced the belt, tightening it around Sam’s naked hips. 

 

“Don’t move,” Dean instructed. He moved away, totally out of Sam’s range of sight. Sam wondered what Dean would do to him if he moved, and as much as Sam thought he’d enjoy his punishment he decided not to move. 

 

“I can tell you’ve been working out as I instructed,” Dean said in the background of the rattles and shakes of items being moved. “Your ass is taut and toned, nice strong muscular thighs and your abs, nice and tight!” 

 

There was a clatter and then Sam could hear him approaching. Then Dean’s knees thudded against the concrete floor, “All in all Mr. Winchester, you’re fucking sexable!” 

 

Sam gripped the table in shock as his ass cheeks were parted and Dean’s tongue slid between them, into Sam. He hummed 'Ring-around-the-rosie' as his tongue circled Sam’s hole. He soon began to force saliva into and around his asshole, moistening him for what Sam knew was sure to come. 

 

Dean removed himself, Sam heard him grab something off the ground as he stood up. Dean spread his cheeks again and Sam gasped as something cold and hard pressed against his hole. It was rounded at the end and not half and inch wide. Sam’s chest rose off the table as he turned to see what it was. Dean’s hand struck him down aggressively, “I didn’t say you could turn around Mr. Winchester!” 

 

Sam’s cheek struck the table almost hard enough to leave a mark, but not before he saw Dean gripping a steel-handled broom that protruded from between his ass cheeks. Sam chuckled with glee, 'Coach, you dirty bastard', he thought. 

 

 

Dean’s hand smacked Sam’s bruised cheek powerfully and growled, “Watch your tone, smart ass!” 

 

“Y-yes Coach,” Sam whimpered as the bruise burned delightfully. 

 

Dean used his feet to spread Sam’s muscular legs, stretched tight; his muscles became far more defined, rumbling an approving groan out of Dean. Consequently, Dean's lust jolted his arm, with which he held the broom, to push forward. The penetration sent electricity through Sam. He cried out, not in pain but in boundless pleasure. 

 

All the moisture had made entry easy, the broom had already drilled around three inches into Sam but the metal soon drew it all into Sam. Dean slowly continued to force the broom into him, aware of the burning Sam felt as it dragged against him. He allowed it to burn as it entered for a few moments longer but then stopped when it invaded six inches of Sammy. He pulled it out a little, so that it could draw out some of the natural lubricant of Sam’s ass and then thrust it even deeper than before. He continued in that fashion, in and out, Sam’s shouts only encouraging him to push deeper each time. 

 

“God d-..Dammit! How d-deep is it?,” Sam quickly ended his question, “Coach!” 

 

Dean’s smirk was so strong Sam could feel it, “Around a good ten inches I’d say!” 

 

“Good God!” Sam moaned, ecstatically. 

 

“Well I prefer 'Coach' but that’s very flattering!” 

 

Only Dean could joke at a time like this, Sam thought. Sam was glad he did though, smart-ass comments like that meant he was really horny, so Sam’s neglected angrily red ten-inch cock throbbed with even more intensity. 

 

Dean repeated what he had been doing in reverse, pulling out more than he forced the broom staff in. Sam realised the purpose of the broom’s staff; it was to take moisture from his ass to lube his ass. Dean finally pulled it from him and cast it aside. 

 

“On your knees. Now!” Dean instructed. 

 

Sam turned and as he got on his knee’s he could see the distinct outline of Dean’s amazingly thick erection. Sam looked up in awe, as Dean released his muscles that had been entrapped by his shirt. Dean crossed his arms so to pull his shirt off without bending over, extracting a hungry moan from Sammy as his muscles flexed. The pendant rested against his chest, the whistle hung inches below it. 

 

Sam’s hands couldn’t help but find their way to Dean’s legs. They pushed up past his knees, glided around to hold his thighs then shifted up to massage Dean’s cheeks that were thick and round with muscle. Dean rolled his head backwards, enjoying every slide, stroke and squeeze of Sam’s big loving hands. Then Coach kicked in, buried his hands in Sam’s thick brown hair and heaved back his head. 

 

“Lesson four,” Dean grinned. “These pants are getting a bit tight. See what you can do about that!” 

 

Sam went to contradict him, tell him that it’s a statement, not a lesson, but Dean’s grasp tightened making Sam’s scalp burn. Just what he was hoping for! He removed Dean's belt, thinking of his own around his waist, and wrapped his lips around the shape of Dean’s enticingly thick hardon. As he mouthed Dean’s cock, his fingers played with the button of the gorgeously tight red shorts. 

 

Once free of the button, the pants were pulled tight enough that the zipper opened itself. Sam tore the shorts down so fast Dean almost lost his balance. Sam beamed at the sight of Dean’s fat dickhead peaking out of the side of his boxers. He leaned forward, looked into Dean’s sparkly green eyes, and kissed the plump crown of his cock. He held Dean’s cock in his mouth when he pulled down his underpants, sucking softly as Dean hunched his shoulders caused by the shivers reverberating from his cock. He broke his gaze and Sam used this opportunity to surprise him by diving down his boner. Though it took some difficulty to open his mouth wide enough to accommodate Dean, it still managed to hit the back of his throat. 

 

Dean’s moan was guttural, so was his voice, “Oh god, why don’t you deep throat more often!” 

 

Dean’s desire flooded him with animalistic passion as he seized Sam’s shoulders and heaved him to his feet. Sam was again on the table, instead this time he had been lifted into the air so he could sit on the edge of the table. His hands fell behind him to support himself as Dean forcibly grabbed Sam’s ankles lifted them either side of his hips and slammed his feet onto the table. Sam towered over Dean still but Coach Dean would have none of that so he pushed Sam back, pushed him lower. This conveniently enough angled Sam’s ass perfectly. Dean laid a smack on Sam’s bruise again and Sam swung like a pendulum away and towards him. 

 

Dean used his hand to press his cock against Sammy’s ass, using the remaining moisture to push his cockhead into his little brother. Or rather he shifted so as to better fuck the school Janitor. 

 

Moments like this were for Dean, for his macho ego. If he couldn’t fuck Sammy’s brains out he didn't feel sexy himself. That said, Sammy was more than willing to comply. Of course when it was Sammy’s sex moment it wasn’t a raw fuck, it was intimate. Dean never said the word fuck; he even rarely went so far as to say “sex”. He knew, since had happened before, that Sammy didn’t want his personal moments of affection with Dean to be compared with some bar slut Dean might give a good hump. Sam needed Dean to love him; those sensual moments of intimacy, far from situation they were in at the moment, sustained Sam’s sexual passion for Dean. 

When it was Sammy’s moment they were making love. 

 

However, this was Dean’s moment! 

 

Using what little wetness there was Dean pushed his fat cock forward into Sam. The broom hadn’t done much to stretch Sam’s ass, hence entry was sudden, sharp and painful. But it was really good! There was no doubt. 

 

Penetrating Sam, Dean tilted towards the tight and sweaty Janitor and wrapped one of his hands around his brother's cock. They had always compared their cocks to their fingers, Dean’s were just longer than normal but were quite thick, Sam’s however, weren’t too thick but longer than any Dean had ever seen. This little factoid was an underestimate, made clear as Dean’s hand ran up from Sam’s balls all the way to crown of his ten-inch cock. 

 

Sam saw the smirk on Dean’s handsome face, and anticipating what was to come, tried to make his insides as loose as possible. Dean put the whistle in his mouth and blared it into Sam’s face. 

 

“Time for a little work out!” Dean said as the whistle dropped from his mouth and bounced against his chest. Sam looked at the red headband on Dean’s head and wondered what it would be like if he had Coach bent over the cleaning trolley so he could whip him with the belt tightened around his bare hips. 

 

“Yes, Coach!” 

 

Dean’s free hand clutched Sam’s hip and he thrust hips forward. Dean groaned but Sam screamed, not in pain, but definitely on the painful side of paradise. For a moment it was not Coach but Older Brother Dean looking down at Sammy, worrying if he had hurt his dear little brother. But as Sam erotically rolled his head against the wall with a smile on his face Coach rolled his hips back and pounded his cock so deep his hip hit the bruise on the Janitor's ass. 

 

Sam grunted and groaned, the line between pain and pleasure had been demolished, each flooded into the other. Dean stretched him so wide it burned, slamming against his raw red ass, but the way he thumped Sam’s prostate sent bolts of ecstasy over the pain of his well-stretched ass. 

 

“Oh De-...“ He went to stop from say his brother’s name but not before Dean withdrew enough to strike Sam’s ass harder than ever, “Fuck! Oh, Coach!” 

 

This only aroused Dean further as both his strokes of Sam’s cock and the pounding of his own into Sam got faster and faster. 

 

“Coach! Oh fucking Hell! COACH!” 

 

Faster and faster, hard and harder, less and less mercy for Sam’s sore, stretched hole. 

 

“Fuck Yeah!” Dean growled and the roll of his hips became erratic. 

 

Sam couldn’t take it any longer, the aggressive caressing of his hardon, the constant, cruel pounding of Dean’s cock against his prostate and the erotic lustful growl from Dean sent him tumbling over the edge. He screamed so hard the tendons on his neck stuck out and his cum blasted upon the most aggressive attack on his prostate. His body had tightened just before that moment so he came with such force that, since his cock was pointed towards him, it struck him right in the face. It barely even streaked his chest! Dean turned it up towards himself, thrust into him and tugged down at the same time as Sam tensed and a second load of Sammy spurted onto his face. 

 

Though he was lost in a haze of heat, Sam could sense the final thrusts coming. The same cum that ran down Sam’s face dropped from Dean’s, he no longer growled but grunted deep and gruff. Clawing Sam’s thighs he bent towards him, just about pulling Sam off the table his entire body shook as the contents of his cock pervaded the soft insides of the world’s sexiest Janitor. 

 

“SAMMY!” 

 

He couldn’t hold it in, it came out with the same unrelenting force as his seed. But he was still hard so he stood back, his cock popping out of Sam’s no longer tight hole and he grabbed it. Pressing his balls against Sam’s cum-wet hole he tightened his stomach and tugged his cock sending one last stream up Sammy’s stomach. 

 

Then they both just fell to the floor, a tangled mess of muscles and dripping with the fruits of their labour. The brothers just wheezed, trying their best to catch their breaths. 

 

“Thanks… for that… Coach!” Sam panted. 

 

Dean looked at him and genuinely smiled, he leant over the top of Sam and softly kissed his brother’s soaked lips. 

 

Then the classic Dean smirk returned. 

 

“You’ve got one helluva mess to clean up!” Dean quipped as he pulled a spray bottle and rag from under the table. 

 

~


End file.
